The Forge Festival

[Anansi M'bali]

Location: Fighting pits, Kerkoidia
Nearby: [member="Uthixo Nazim"], [member="Shakti Sweet"], [member="Ephraim"], [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

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Sulu? Furrowing his brows Anansi opened his mouth with the lick of his lips and smiled to himself. What was a young warrior doing so far from home? The aged Sandali knew his own spoken language well there was more than one person at the arena that could speak it it seemed. Curiosity poked at his mind and thoughts. How the young man, Uthixo Nazim fought and presented himself was very respectable and his opponent's cunning was as sharp was a razor cat. Each action told Anansi information about the individuals below. How one favored tstrategy and tactics using the spirits power and the other honed his own martial prowless though the ladder Anansi could feel was holding back something.

Maybe it was just a feeling.

Honor the warrior. Anansi's watched as the two mean in the arena persisted to fight. Both having survived the initial attacks of one another. A even match it appeared. " Uwezekano huo" He uttered to himself feeling his body slowly lean forward watching closer. A dance that embodied Anansi's beliefs and way of life. The Sandali was not the only one with the same reaction either. The tension could be felt in the very air. It rose like steam contacting others and surging through the mind. Infectious. Sensing other warriors anxious, prepared for a future fight. Head turning the the red headed woman the large man introduced himself.

" It has been some time since I have seen a battle as intense as this. My name is Anansi." A large hand extended to the woman in the form of a handshake.

" I gather you know the contenders below?" he asked.

 

[Krystal]

[SIZE=11pt]“An indiscriminate killer is weapon enough for me.” Krystal grinned as she looked at the girl again. Not a flashy outfit, but [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] was [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]undeniably pretty cute. She had good taste, too. Krystal would likely come back for these -- her supply had been pretty low since a rather botched ambush on Nar Shaddaa which she decidedly did [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]not[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] want to think about. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Krystal laughed at the girl’s comment. “What’s the point of a festival if you don’t dress for it? And besides, all armour does is slow you down.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “My secret? I try not to get shot at.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Kelsie did seem to be dressed more nondescript than for a festival of any sorts, but she didn’t really look the type who would be interested in the brawling pits that the festival offered. “So if you’re not here for the party and you’re not dressed for combat” -- the girl was unarmed other than a small pistol -- “what brings you here anyways?” [/SIZE]

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

"Get a little finesse, girl." Kelsie shook her head, letting out a small chuckle. "Grenades aren't really my thing, especially not these days." There weren't many times where she'd actually used an explosive. Stun grenades, smoke grenades, even a CryoBan grenade once -- but true explosives weren't her thing. She'd left that to the demolitionist in her squad, Alexis... but now she had a rather awful inheritance of a few dozen thermal wells.

The young woman rolled her eyes at the blonde. "That's the idea," she muttered. Kelsie wasn't dressed for anything, really. This outfit was her being casual. She could hide her weapons, pass off as a civilian, and do anything she wanted really -- but this woman seemed to be some exotic dancer of sorts, or perhaps some pop star ready to perform at a concert. It was obvious to Kelsie that she'd never worn armor in her life, and she actually doubted the girl's combat skills.

"This is the Forge Festival. It's in the name. And people tend not to get dressed up when they're looking at military grade impact grenades. I mean, I don't know about you, but that's me," she said, chuckling softly again.

[member="Krystal Estain"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Objective: Familiar Flames.
Allies: CIS, Kerkoidians
Location: Heart of the Forges

He wore less than the festival-goers who frolicked around the flames. Calloused hands and blackened fingers ran gently over the anvil and hammer set aside specifically for him. They were almost antiquities compared to the tools he once held in Keldabe. It felt like eons of history flowed through him when he gripped the hammer, and he glanced over it affectionately. He had lost his soul, but the body remained.

That body remembered.

He appraised the metals provided for participants, both the donations of the Confederacy and the provisions of the Kerkoidian people. Some were rich in color and coarse in texture, others were fine, and more still cleaved away evenly when he chipped at them with his fingernails. It was easy for a learned Smith to glean the quality of materials, though anyone watching might seem the motions strange.

A Mandalorian Metallurgist among all skilled Craftsmen had secrets, even to others who shared his passion. Alkor touched each chunk of ore carefully, testing the weight, turning it over in his hands, brushing away grime and dirt built up over time. Much of what was gathered here could be used in more ceremonial tools and weapons, but he would never employ it for armor or combat ready equipment.

When at last he held the Beskar, the familiarity of it caused his shoulders to sag. He held a solemn expression for some time before he moved toward the vat, eyes closed. "Ner agol, ni vor entye par taylir ni morut'yc."

He dropped the metal into the molten pot, and quietly watched as it reddened.

"Kapr gar daorida at narir bid o'r gar evaar'la jibr."

 

[WolfMortum]

Location: Kerkoidia, Attending the Festival.​

Objective: Attend the Festival and try to enjoy himself.​

Apparel: Silver Jedi Apparel & Silver Mantle.​

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Veiere Arenais wandered the district, taking his time to admire the people and the activities and celebrations going on around him. It was unfortunate that he didn't have the company of his wife there with him, the absence of company was rather notable and left him feeling somewhat out of place. None the less, he had come to experience something new and this festival was certainly achieving that.

Truth be told, Veiere knew very few people within the Confederacy; it had been so long since he had last been called over this side of the Galaxy. So long in fact that he wasn't even sure if [member="Adron Malvern"] was still over these ways. Unfortunately, the CiS being associated with some of the Sith had convinced him to keep his distance as the former Monarch over Commenor. The Sith Empire had scarred their world, and Veiere just couldn't afford to risk another political fallout back then. Surprisingly, he had learned that the Order of the Silver Jedi were allied with them, and it was honestly refreshing to see that the Jedi were dealing in facts and evidence these days, rather than rumors and prejudice like the rest of the Galaxy.

Stopping to purchase himself an synthaholic beverage, Veiere chose something with a bit of a fruity twist and a double shot of vodka, hoping that it would help ease his anxiety some. Looking about the crowded vacinity, he searched for any signs of a familiar face and came up with little to show for it. Something of a disappointment really.

[member="Uthixo Nazim"] | [member="Shakti Sweet"] | @Ephraim | @Kelsie Sylvan | [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"] | @Keva | @Scherezade deWinter | [member="Anansi M'bali"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"]​

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Fight Pits, Kerkoidia
Tags: [member="Ephraim"] | [member="Anansi M'bali"] | [member="Uthixo Nazim"] | [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

---

The fighting was intense, and it was difficult to tear herself away from it. She hadn't seen a proper saber battle in what felt like ages, and with all the practicing she'd been doing, she recognized there was a good deal for her to learn between the two. Despite being one blade short, Ephraim seemed to be holding his own, but the Sandali warrior was fierce and pressing every advantage he could find. She found herself leaning forward, her elbows propped on her knees as her keen emerald eyes narrowed, watching each attempted blow with great interest.

The mute nearly missed it when the man further down the row introduced himself, extending one large hand in greeting. Several rapid blinks brought her attention back from the two battling in the pit and instead they rested on the hand extended to her. She stared at it for a moment, the silence between the two growing over several long moments before she raised her right hand to place it in his. Her grip was firm, and her eyes met his for the first time. There was something in those eyes, a silent curiosity.

Her free hand lifted to chest height as they exchanged their handshake, and began to move rapidly - her fingers and wrist performing a series of practiced gestures. She wasn't certain that the man spoke GSL, but the Firrerreo signed her name - S.H.A.K.T.I. She then released his hand and move both of her hands in unison, giving him the sign she used for herself - Silence.

When he asked if she knew both participants she shook her head, glancing back to the action and pointing at the struggling mercenary. That one. She knew that one.

 

[Gianna Aegis]

Location: [The Festival]​

Objective: Explore!​

Tag: [member="Veiere Arenais"]​

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Curious.

Gianna, was curious. The redhead was firmly wrapped in all that was notably good and pure in the universe, but something, about learning a little more about different cultures always called to her. The nomad had recently made the first mistakes that any wanderer could make. Firstly, she had placed permanent roots on Naboo. Secondly, she’d followed her former Padawan, into the arms of an official faction. The Silver Jedi. It was well known that the group had aligned themselves with the Confederacy long ago.

The flame-haired woman was curious. She wanted to know; understand why that was.

Green eyes took in the sights the evening was provided. All were welcome, so it seemed, and Gianna took it to mean that members of the Silver Order would count among them. There were fires burning everywhere, with small workshops set up, and metalworkers toiling away. There were plenty of other vendors scattered throughout, and even, a fighting ring. It was barbaric, to her eyes, but she understood the importance of it. Every culture, every species, had their own rights and traditions. No matter how bloodthirsty they seemed…It was their way.

She moved through the area easily enough, wrapped in layered robes, that held an outer-shell of emerald green fabric. Beneath that, a softer shade, and beneath that, a layer of white. A sash wrapped around her ribcage, high, so that it cinched the fabric firmly against her frame. It split in the middle to reveal a pair of pale protective leggings that tucked into soft brown boots. There were numerous pockets hidden here and there, as well as in the bells of her sleeves, but anyone would be hard pressed to find a lightsaber on her person. While she was well-trained, she preferred, not to use them.

Words were her weapon of choice, often enough, that it wasn’t a necessity. Especially in a situation that shouldn’t require any sort of outward force.

Eventually, she found herself in less of a strictly rural area, and found herself looking at a small district, decorated and full of life. Gianna smiled. It was a strange thing, when the Nabooian woman did so, and her very essence seemed to light the dark. It was almost impossible not to feel a sense of peace, or weightlessness, whenever she neared, regardless of her familiarity with those around her. The Jedi Knight brought warmth. Happiness. It was her default setting.

With that in mind, she couldn’t help but notice someone, a little closer to her alignment, appearing a little adrift in the crowd. He seemed familiar, but truthfully, she could not place him. Gianna had been traveling the verse without the guidance of any Order for quite some time. It was only for [member="Cassius Droma"] that she now associated herself with anything specific. With that in mind, she came to stand next to the much taller man [[member="Veiere Arenais"]], and leaned against the makeshift bar top. “A credit for your thoughts?”

“Forgive me for prying. You feel…Anxious.”, she offered up kindly, with a slightly apologetic expression, at having gleaned a little detail without permission. Her gentle heart was always open, always taking things in, and could never look away.

 

[Krystal]

Poor girl. She must live such a bland life if she didn’t take these festivals as what they obviously were -- a time to dress up. Finesse? Krystal almost laughed. “They’re definitely mine, though. Dirty and effective -- especially because it’s never my property I’m blowing up”. Advantages of staying away from home, she guessed.

Handing some credits to the woman on the other side of the stall, Krystal slipped the case of grenades into the bag she carried. It was better to pick them up now than to have to remember to come back for them later, especially if she intended to start to drink something other than water.

“No, it’s just you.” Krystal laughed. “I’m kidding, of course -- I just haven’t been to a proper festival in a while. I’ll take what fun I can get.” Now that she was here, though, she figured that she might as well browse the stalls a little more. She did need another pistol -- something had jammed in the Shatter Pistol she owned and she hadn’t gotten around to fixing it up yet -- and she would likely as not find an abundance of options here. “You looking for anything in particular?” Kelsie didn’t seem the type to fight in the pits and evidently wasn’t here for the fashion, so must be shopping for something.

[member="Kelsie Sylvan"]

 

[WolfMortum]

Location: Kerkoidia, Attending the Festival.​

Objective: Converse with [member="Gianna Aegis"].​

Apparel: Silver Jedi Apparel & Silver Mantle.​

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Corellian Whiskey, one big cliche of a beverage given that half the Galaxy drank it and nothing about the cool orange liquid stood out at all, nor made the one drinking it, special in any sense. Though it addled the brain like any other synthaholic drop, Veiere simply enjoyed the taste; perhaps even more so on days like this one.

Thankfully, it seemed that he wouldn't be drinking alone; instead he was approached by [member="Gianna Aegis"]. The young woman struck him as familiar somehow, first impressions leading Veiere to silently question whether or not they had met before. Turning to face Gianna as she inquired as to what was going through his mind, Veiere simply smiled. Had he been looking overly concerned, or perhaps entirely distant. Regardless, it was nice to be given the opportunity to have a conversation with someone.

"I suppose I am feeling a little out of place here" he chuckled softly, sparing a glance to their surroundings before turning back to her; "Forgive me for asking, but have we met somewhere before?" it couldn't be helped, he had come into contact with so many people over the years and it was difficult to remember all the names and all the faces, yet she carried a resemblance that suggested they two had something in common. Naturally, he could be wrong of course, and she could simply be a very generous young woman wanting an old man like himself to have company for a few.

"My name's Veiere by the way" he smiled a little warily, offering something of an apologetic look. "Veiere Arenais. It's nice to meet you" he added, extending his hand in a proper form of greeting.

 

[Gianna Aegis]

Location: [The Festival]​

Objective: Explore!​

Tag: [member="Veiere Arenais"]​

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Gianna didn’t drink alcohol. In her experience, she was probably the only Jedi on this half of the galaxy that refrained. It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust herself. She did. There was just something that bothered her about losing control of her faculties. Often, she needed her mind, her sharpness, more than any weapon. That, and she tended to loathe the flavor. It always made her face scrunch up while it burned the whole way down.

With that in mind, she ordered a beverage that she had gotten fond of through her former-Padawan. Meiloorun nectar had become a staple in their dwelling on Naboo. Even though he was only able to stay for relatively short periods of time the flame-haired woman always made sure to keep it readily available. The much taller Jedi smiled and the pale-skinned woman beamed. He had a friendly face, topped with kind eyes, and an easy disposition.

“We might have, in passing, though I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”, she returned softly, picking up her drink, and returning the proper amount of credits. There was a crazy straw sticking out of the top and jade-eyes glimmered with a particular kind of happiness. She found joy in the little things. “It’s nice to formally meet you too…My name is Gianna Aegis.”

His name sparked more than a little recognition. Was he not the King of Commenor, or, depending on who one asked—the former King? Gianna was hazy on the details considering she’d only recently decided to join the Silver Jedi full time. The rumor mill was full of things she didn’t quite trust.

“But, you can call me Gia, if you like. All my friends do.”

Many Jedi that she crossed preferred to be more formal and insisted on calling her Knight Aegis, but, the red-haired Nabooian didn’t feel the need to impress upon that. Especially, not at a festival, versus a formal mission. “I travel around quite a bit, but recently, I’ve been a little more stationary.”

She looked around, taking in the atmosphere, people talking, laughing and carrying on. The festival portion was much more her style than that which took place past the tall grass. The fighting rings were intriguing, but, the light-sided woman didn’t relish in staying in a place that echoed of pain and smelled of old blood. When all was said and done she planned to make rounds to see who needed, or wanted, to be patched up. “You’re a long way from Commenor. Or Kaskhyyyk.”

“Have you come to observe the contests?”

 

[Alexander]

Location: Ring
Tag: [member="Uthixo Nazim"]

Center.

If this were a genuine battle, the Ghost would have gotten himself killed by now. Entering the match with haphazard parlour tricks may have worked against mercenaries and criminals with no sort of combat background - yet against a hardened warrior? They were as glass and easily seen through. No. For this, Ephraim would have to briefly return to his roots. He would have to honor the past in the same manner as the Sandali before him. And, though his flesh would not instantly become marred with reminders of his heritage, the Ghost of Endelaan would move with purpose. When the telekinesis stole him the opportunity to steal a breath, his boots ground into the dirt to right himself. His saber rose and was held in both hands, awaiting the inevitable counterattack by the sable-skinned warrior.

And in an instant, the Sandali was upon him. His silver blade moved in a thrust at first, crossing the gap as if to impale the man's midsection. Yet, at the last second, his wrist moved, raking the blade up. Yet again, the warrior attempted to end this quickly and decisively. However, Ephraim would not resort to the parlour tricks this time. This time, he would recall the lessons that were drilled into his skull by the Court Guard. Minimal motion. Maximum return. He waited, yet there was no tension or rigidity. Once the blade raked, Ephraim's blade moved in a slight, horizontal motion to smack the weapon off course. The momentum of the forward thrust, coupled with the clash of their weapons would save Ephraim's hide from harm - but how much distance it created would be up to the reflexes of his adversary.

What the Ghost was counting on was the momentum of the thrust-turned-slash to keep the Sandali moving forward. For, if it did, his response would be all the more potent. As their blades clashed, Ephraim would twist his wrists up and over the silver blade, attempting a point blank thrust of his own. The strike would be aimed for the man's throat. Mayefla.

 

[Uthixo Nazim]

Location: Ring
Opponent: [member="Ephraim"]
Nearby: [member="Anansi M'bali"], [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"], [member="Shakti Sweet"], [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"]


To be a great swordsman took more than claiming it to be so, it took one displaying their talents openly. To know how a blade moves, to know where to place one's feet, how the body moved. Uthixo didn't claim to be a great or even good swordsman, but he simply did what came natural for a warrior. The thrust that he'd thrown at Ephraim was an opening attack, one the Ghost had responded to my smacking Uthixo's blade off and to the side before immediately throwing a counter attack. A counter that shouldn't have been thrown just yet due to the openings it left.

In the instant his blade had been knocked to the side Uthixo had already begun planning his own counter to the mercenary that stood before him. Right elbow drawing back to his side much like a shockboxer his right saber waited for its chance to strike once more. To sink itself into flesh or to end the duel.

When Ephraim went for the thrust he'd forgotten that there was a second saber to deal with, unlike him the Sandali hadn't placed both his hands on one hilt. Left-arm coming forward, wrist facing Ephraim, the silver blade angled downwards Uthixo pushed it forward so it clashed with the side of the golden blade of Ephraim wielded. This to push the saber off to the right and away from the Sandali's throat prolonging the fight while at the same time providing the dark-skinned warrior an opening.

All the while his arms performed the maneuver to save the Sandali's throat, Uthixo's legs had started shifting making blocking the thrust with his shoto more comfortable instead of a stretch. Uthixo's right leg drew back, his left moving forward, stepping closer to the mercenary. Standing on the balls of his feet Uthixo offered Ephraim his left side as both his legs were in line both his feet pointing to the right, thus making himself a smaller target. With that, the counter immediately came Uthixo's wrist turning to face the ground, his left arm extending at the elbow turning what had once been a hanging guard into a slash at Ephraim's throat. Once more a lethal maneuver to end the fight and line Ephraim up where the Sandali wanted him less there were more force shenanigans, but this time Uthixo was ready or for someone to call a halt to the battle less one of the warriors take the battle too far.

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

"Yeah, okay," Kelsie said with a raised eyebrow. At least she wasn't rude about it... blowing things up just seemed mean. Kelsie tended not to blow things up. She rather liked keeping things intact... after all, you might need it later. But this girl's attitude was a little bit much... gave Kelsie a little bit of perspective really. Worse, did the blonde just steal the case she was about to buy? That little...

"You could always just go to a party." For all the swagger this girl carried herself with she didn't quite seem to be the brightest, and hadn't presented anything that would make Kelsie definitively want to stick around her, other than a vague feeling of familiarity or connection. She was sure she hadn't met this woman before... and she wasn't sure if she would want to again. "Oh, well, I think I'm gonna head off and find a good smith to make me something neat," she said with a small shrug. The young woman then turned and began to continue down the rows of stalls and tents filled with the various crafters, not particularly caring if the girl decided to stick around.

It wasn't long before she found herself at the heart of the forges -- she could smell the iron, practically feeling it melting... and wow was it ever hot. Kelsie fit right in. She began to wander around. Kelsie didn't know all that much about the creation of weapons, at least, not unique ones. It was interesting to see the various craftsmen at work... but one in particular caught her eye.

Perhaps it was less the man and more the metal -- the slight change in smell, the small blue tinge, the quality of the tools scattered around the workspace -- it was beskar. Not just that, but the semi-harsh sounding words of Mando'a. This was the real deal...

The young woman stepped up to the counter, looking over at the melted Mandalorian Iron and the metallurgist looking over it. "Hey, got more of that stuff? I'll pay good money if you make me something neat," she said with a smile.

[member="Krystal Estain"] [member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Azel Moran]

[member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Krystal Estain"] [member="Alkor Centaris"]




“Hey, old-timer, how much for you to make me a knife?”

Azel straightened up from perusing bar stock. “How long is a hammer?”

The young merc blinked. “Uhhh...maybe this long?”

“No. Look. See.” Azel pointed at a rack of tools. “How long is a hammer?”

“They're all different. Oh.”

A grunt of amusement. “Exactly. So walk me through what you'd like.”

The merc regained some confidence and pulled out a knife of his own. “It was part of a matched set, and I left the other one stuck in a Jedi.” He passed it to Azel handle-first.

“Seriously? You're not just blowing smoke because of my Sith tats?”

“You've got a funny way of soliciting business, old-timer.”

“Yeah, well, you're not paying for a best buddy, you're paying for a knife. I could take or leave your money: I'm here to learn. Some of these Kerk smiths are no joke.” He eyed the blade, hefted it, tested its balance. Broken-back drop point; gentle forward bend for hacking; ridged hardwood grip; flat grind, quite stout. “But yeah, I can twin this knife for, eh…three hundred wupiupi. Half up front.”

“Done.”

Azel laid the knife on a workbench and picked a piece of high-carbon bar stock. His stall's portable forge was already hot. “Come back tonight and it'll be ready.”

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor heard the girl's voice and turned from his work to regard her. It had yet to rise to high enough heat to work the metal at all, so he had not donned any protective gear. If she watched the flames behind him, she might notice that the ore was slow to heat, and perhaps it had not seemed to warp at all since it rose above three hundred degrees C.

He gave her the once over. "You want that stuff?" he gestured toward the Beskar, remembering a time when he would have never said yes or even considered selling the precious material to a non-Mando. "It's a little heavy, I've got some other materials you might like better."

If she had a good eye like he expected, she'd press the issue; and honestly, he was alright with it. Still he opened the stall to her and gestured toward the collection of metals, plastics, and stone he had available to work with.

[member="Kelsie Sylvan"]

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

"Oh please. I'd hate to make a Mandalorian Metallurgist work with a metal he isn't so very familiar with." Kelsie gave a knowing smile to the smith. She glanced at the other materials, quietly choosing another metal just in case. She knew beskar was rare, and most Mandalorians would never give their iron to an outsider. She mentally reviewed a practiced Mandalorian accent, as well as the phrases in Mando'a she might need to convince this man. But not yet.

Kelsie paused for a moment, then continued to speak. "Money's not an issue, I can pay as much as you'd like. I want something special, something strong, something... my own. Can you do that?"

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alexander]

Location: Ring
Tag: [member="Uthixo Nazim"], [member="Shakti Sweet"], [member="Anansi M'bali"], [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"], [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"]

P Z Z T​

The flash of silver bit into flesh.

As the two warriors battled back and forth, it became apparent that the shoto was the boon of the Sandali. Whereas Ephraim placed the totality of his focus upon one blade, the sable-skinned warrior used both to unbalance and push the offensive. And, when the Ghost made his thrust against his adversary, it was met by a defense that evolved into a counter. His saber was pushed aside and, in the blink of an eye, burning plasma swiped at his throat. The entirety of Ephraim's focus leapt towards preserving his life, causing him to force himself backward as much as possible. He would live to see another day, but not unscathed.

Pushing himself back and turning slightly to his right saw the silver boil the flesh upon his neck. The slice ran along the side, causing a pained gasp to escape the man. In that instant, a shrill whistle erupted into being: First Blood had been drawn. Ephraim took the opportunity to step back, his offhand immediately raising to cover the wound with his hand. He would have spoken - to admit that @Uthixo Nazin had bested him - but the pain dominating his neck prevented any verbal speech. Rather, the man extinguished his saber and rendered a salute using the hilt. The fight had pointed out many points of improvement for the Ghost.

Specifically, feth honor. slang TK.

With his time in the Ring now came to a close, Ephraim turned on his heel and moved to find the nearest medic. If all went well, he wouldn't need to use sign language on a permament basis following today.

 

[Shakti Sweet]

[SIZE=9pt]Location:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] Fight Pits, Kerkoidia[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Tags:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [member="Ephraim"] [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]| [member="Anansi M'bali"][/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] | [member="Uthixo Nazim"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]

---

[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]The two were evenly matched... Until they weren't. One small overextension, one slow reaction, one well-placed blade. She saw the strike coming and was on her feet in an instant. The mute managed to stop herself from barreling into the ring, but it was only because she watched as the Ghost pivoted in the last moment, catching the scalding blade at the edge of his throat instead of inside of it. She was mute... She couldn't swear loudly... But she was visibly fuming as she reached down and snatched his hooded sweatshirt from the bench beside her. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]The redhead turned to the Sandali man whom she had so briefly been introduced to, giving him an apologetic nod before she bundled the fabric of the sweater into her arms and hurried off after Ephraim. As the hurried pair reached the edge of the stands she paused for only a moment to turn back to the victor, left standing alone in the ring and shooting him a look that could have turned lesser men to stone. The Firrerreo let that heated gaze linger for only a moment before she spun again and ran off after the injured mercenary... With her being as visibly upset as she was, it wasn't entirely clear who was in more danger; the man who had caused the injury, or the one who had taken it.[/SIZE]